Come Home To Me
by NothingSpecial8
Summary: It's been 3 years since Sherlock jumped and John continues to mourn his best friend's death. He remembers the day as if it had just happened. On this same day, he gets an unexpected guest who he is very shocked to see.


He couldn't help but cry, he couldn't help but let the tears roll down his face. It was exactly three years since his friend, his best friend, had killed himself. He was still in the same flat that they had shared, he was still solving cases, not quite as well as his friend had done, no one would ever be able to do that. No one, not ever.

John was too scared to change anything in the flat. He still kept Sherlock's things, the same way that they were before. He was afraid that if he touched them, he would ruin the memory of the man. It was a silly fear, he had told himself that, but he couldn't help but feel that way.

He remember that day very vividly, regardless of how hard he tried to suppress the memory. It was the last one he had, it was the last time he heard his voice.

_"Sherlock, are you okay?"_

_"Turn around and walk back the way you came."_

John didn't want to remember any of it. But it just kept coming, just like it had the year before and the year prior to that. He turned on the telly to try and block it out but that didn't work either. He could still picture that day.

_"An apology. It's all true."_

_"What?"_

_"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."_

John never believed that. He knew Moriarty was real, he knew it. There was no way that was a lie, no way at all. Sherlock was just too intelligent, too sherlock to do that. He refused to believe that Sherlock would lie to him, Sherlock was his friend.

_"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"_

_"Do what?"_

_"This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."_

_"Leave a note when?"_

_"Goodbye, John."_

_"No. Don't- Sherlock!"_

Three years since then and the pain that ripped through his chest was still as painful as ever. He missed Sherlock, he really did. Everything about him, all the times he would text him with the most annoying messages. Even when he played the violin at 4am in the morning. Even when he would get in silly arguments over such stupid things.

The things he regretted the most was all the things he left unsaid, how he had never said thank you. Sherlock was there for him in his most troubling time, he was so alone and Sherlock had been there. He wished with all his heart that he would have said something. Why didn't he?

_"Take my hand."_

_Now people will definitely talk."_

He could still feel Sherlock's hand in his, it was very warm and comforting, it felt nice. He missed it to be honest. But now he wasn't able to hold Sherlock's hand anymore, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't look into his eyes, bright and full of excitement when he had solved a case. He just couldn't anymore.

He could definitely feel the tears now, hot and wet, rolling down his cheek. He let out a choked sob but quickly took control of himself. His therapist had told him that he would be over him by now but obviously therapy didn't work for him.

John sighed and decided to do what he did every year, get up and make tea. Not just one for himself but one for Sherlock. He would place it by his chair and wait while he drank his own. Of course no one would ever drink it and he knew no one ever would. There was no way. It was impossible but he still carried out this stupid little tradition and still hoped. For some reason, he still hoped.

He took his seat across from Sherlock's old one and sipped his tea. Today was the day he was going to mourn his friend. His therapist had told him that this wasn't healthy for him but he didn't care. He didn't care about much anymore.

All that was going to happen was that he was going to grow old, alone, and eventually, he would die that way. He had thought before Sherlock's death that they were going to grow old together, like some old married couple, and they were going to be happy and content with life. But it looked like one of them took their departure a little ahead of schedule.

John heard the door to the flat open but he ignored it. He knew that Miss Hudson had gone out earlier to get groceries and she had probably returned. He didn't even pay attention to the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs. He just sat there, remembering.

Eventually, he started to say something, directed at Sherlock, though he knew the man would never hear him.

"It's hard Sherlock, it really is. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm so alone. When I was with you... I don't know, I felt like I was... alive. I miss you Sherlock. I miss you so much. You know I never stopped believing in you. I knew you didn't lie about anything, about Moriarty. You were too smart, arrogant and annoying as well but... you were more than just that. You were my friend, you were the one person that I was happy being with everyday of my life. And now that you're gone... Sherlock, if there is anyway, anyway at all, that you can come back, do it. Please, for me, come back, come home. Come home Sherlock, please."

_"Goodbye, John."_

"John, please stop crying, it's not decent." John stopped everything he was doing, breathing included. He must've been hearing things, surely he was hearing things. His tears stopped and he turned slowly, and he saw the one man, the one man he had spent so long mourning over, standing in the doorway. He was wearing the same coat he always did, the same scarf, and that same stupid look on his face.

John stood up immediately, taking a few quick steps to reach the man before he punched him hard in the face. Sherlock placed a hand on his cheek but didn't look all that surprised. He must have expected it. What he wasn't expecting though was for arms to wrap tightly around his middle.

Sherlock took a moment to process what was happening before he slowly and awkwardly hugged John back.

"I waited for you," John said through his tears. "I waited for so long."

Sherlock could feel tears on the brim of falling down his face but he quickly forced them away. "I know John, I know and I'm sorry. It was necessary though, I had to make sure that you were safe."

John still had yet to let go and he didn't plan on it for a long time. His best friend had just come home after three years so he was going to stay there for as long as he pleased.

"All that matters is that you're back, that's all I care about." John kept his face pressed against the man's chest and he felt Sherlock press a gentle kiss on top of his head.

"I missed you, Sherlock."

"I missed you too."

**AU: Like or no? I don't know why I wrote this, I've been having terrible writer's block and I needed to get something down. This is what happened. I hope you enjoyed it! (I didn't proof read it so sorry for any mistakes!)**


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